


I Didn't Know That This Game We Were Playing Even Had a Set of Rules (Loose Affiliation, Part Four)

by spuffyduds



Series: Loose Affiliation [4]
Category: due South
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set shortly after Season One.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Didn't Know That This Game We Were Playing Even Had a Set of Rules (Loose Affiliation, Part Four)

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after Season One.

It's been five days since the Doorknob Incident, which Ray wishes his brain wouldn't insist on capitalizing, but at least it isn't calling it the Hand Incident.

He hasn't been over to Benny's or called, and yeah he feels a little guilty, because the guy's still not fully recovered, but geez, what's he supposed to say? And, let's be fair here, Benny hasn't called him either.

He's worked extra hours at the 2-7, taken Ma to the grocery store twice, pretty much anything to fill up the time, but he's still got a buzzy itchy energy fizzing under his skin, makes it hard to sleep. But thank God, this is basketball night, the first one he's gonna make it to since he got lightly shot. (And how much does it say about Life with Fraser that he thinks of it as "lightly shot?") He can run the jitters out of his system, wear himself out, sleep like a dead dog. Wake up calm and mellow tomorrow, think _what the hell was THAT all about?_, and hang out with Benny, no issues.

When he gets to the gym only a few of the guys have shown—it's getting into vacation season and a bunch of regulars are on the road. They end up having to do three-on-three, and Sal who's a giant wuss keeps saying three-on-three should be half-court, but Ray shoots him down because no _way_ is he going home tonight _not_ tired out of his mind.

So they go full court and it's perfect, just what he needs, he's out of his head and in his body for the first time in days, sprint and stop and pivot, bounce pass and fallaway jumper. He's got the long fingers to palm the ball, but he's never managed a dunk in his life; he tries one every time, though, and tonight like always he gets nowhere _near_ enough air, and the guys yell, "_Ray_! You're WHITE!" and they've been playing together so long it comes out in unison.

He gets happier and happier as the night goes on, even though he got stuck with Sal on his team and they're getting shit-stomped. And after a while it occurs to him that he's not just happy because he's playing, he's happy because he passed a test he didn't even know he was giving himself. Because here he is, sprinting and smashing into a bunch of sweaty guys, guys he _likes_, a couple of them what you would call attractive, and: nothing. Zero interest, zero reaction, nada. Because, _obviously_, he is _not_ attracted to guys, and the Doorknob Incident was just some kind of weird brain fart, and everything's cool, it's all great.

Then Sal tries to call a moving pick on Pattillo, for god's sake, what kind of a pussy foul is that, and they're all yelling at him "I don't see any _blood_, Sal, suck it up!" And Patillo gets so pissed he flips his combover at Sal on _purpose_ because he knows it freaks him out. (He has this horrible, horrible combover that he's grown out, like, eight inches long, and he just _shellacks_ it to the top of his head in one big slab, and every now and then it _unhinges_ during a game. Once Ray brought Louie along from work, and of course he didn't know any of the other guys. Patillo's lid flipped right after Louie fouled him hard, and the poor guy actually screamed because he thought for a second he'd somehow _scalped_ him.)

So then things devolve into a lot of insulting Italian turns of phrase, and finally they're all flipping each other off and heading out the doors.

They'll all be back next week. Ray figured out years ago that this is how the married guys get around to leaving, because they'd rather call each other fat whores than admit their wives are expecting them home.

So he drives home, happy and incredibly fucking tired and smelling really horrible. Shower, teeth, bed, yeah.

But when he gets to the house, Benny's sitting on his front steps. Shit. He must not have been there long, must have gotten there after everybody else went to bed, because if any Vecchio had spotted him he would have gotten invited in and forcefed.

Ray scoops up his gym bag, gets out of the car. And he was all ready to face Fraser, sure everything was fine, but that was the plan for _tomorrow_ and now that it's, well, _now_, he's still kind of freaked out.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello, Ray."

"Whatcha need, Benny? Because, good to see you and all, but— " he waves a hand at his sweaty shorts and tee, "I'm pretty wiped out, here."

"I won't keep you long," and Benny smiles a weird flat smile, not enough curve to it. Maybe it's just the streetlight.

They walk into the house together, silent, which is weird for both of them, and into the kitchen where Ray gets a water bottle out of the fridge and waves another at Fraser, who shakes his head. Ray finds himself reluctant to turn on any lights, because that'll just make Benny _stay_ and he really wants to have whatever this talk is tomorrow or next week, please. But he's doesn't want to sit down in the dark, either, in the wrong-shaped shadows from the streetlights shining in the windows. So he leans back against the fridge; he's got magnets poking him in the back, probably ones that are holding up some niece-produced painting of Barney and his minions. Not comfortable, but he won't be here long.

"So?" he says, takes a drink.

"Yes," Benny says, and stops.

Ray tips his water bottle at him. "I'm tired, Benny," he says, "and I'm sweaty and repulsive, and I need to get a shower and go to bed. What is it?"

"You're not." Benny says, and then looks at the floor. He's in a shadow but Ray thinks he might be blushing. "That would be part of the problem."

"I'm not _what_? I'm not _tired_? Jesus. Three games of three-on-three here, and maybe _you're_ Superman but that wears _me_ out."

"You're not repulsive," Benny says, softly, and huh? But he keeps going. "I was coming over to say, maybe we shouldn't work together or—-or see each other quite so much, because it seems to be making you uncomfortable—"

And all of a sudden Ray's _pissed_. "It's making ME uncomfortable?" He's away from the fridge and up in Benny's face now. "You were a fucking statue too, Benny. You were _just..standing..there_ too. What was going on with YOU?" Because hell if he's going to be in—-whatever this is—-by himself. And, oh shit, he _is_ in it again. Things are stirring; worn out as he is, his body is starting to make plans without his permission. Not attracted to men. But, apparently, attracted to Fraser. FUCK.

"If you'll let me make my point, Ray," Benny says. Politely. "I _was_ going to say that. But I find, now, that I don't want to." And he smiles, a really weird non-Fraser smile. It looks like he has more teeth than usual, somehow. "Because I don't think you want me to." And he looks down at Ray's gym shorts, which don't disguise _shit_. And, god, it's not a glance, not the quick plausible-deniability scan you give girls in the street. It _lingers_.

"Benny—I—but—WHAT?"

And Benny is _advancing_ on him. Very slowly, like Ray's a _horse_ or something that might bolt. Step and step, calm Mountie smile, another step and another and Ray's back up against the fridge. Then Benny's face is coming close, and then wham they've banged foreheads, what the fuck, was that some kind of ritual Mountie headbutt or something? No, Ray thinks, they're still standing there skull to skull and Fraser's starting to _giggle_. Fraser tilted his head down because he's used to kissing women, _shorter_ women. Which means, huh, that I was going for it too, tilting my head down to meet where I expected him to be, otherwise he would have headbutted me in the nose. Shit.

The giggle's getting a little higher and a little tenser, and Ray can just feel that Fraser's about to give up, walk away, let Ray write this off as a bad joke, that he thinks he'll be doing Ray a favor. So Ray grabs Benny's shoulders, _rolls_ their faces up together, foreheads and then noses mashing and then lips, yeah.

And for a second there it's disappointing. The lips are good, the lips are fine, but around them is a little stubble that rasps against Ray's own, and that's weird. Women are so _soft_ there, that's one of Ray's favorite parts. But then Benny's lips open and there's _plenty_ of soft inside, there is _lots_ of soft, the warm slick just past Fraser's smile. Ray's tasting and tasting, he could do this all night, just little darts of his tongue inside, _lovely_.

Then. Then Benny's tongue meets his, oh god, that tongue that's he's watched flickering and tasting and licking those lips for a _year_, and how did he never notice that he was noticing it that much? And it's crazy because he could never have imagined that any part of Fraser could be wicked but that is a _wicked_ little tongue, pointy and hot, touching Ray's and pulling away, over and over.

Ray makes a little noise, lets go of the shirt and gets his arms around Benny's neck, and now the rest of his body wants in on this, wants to play, he's rocking his hips against Benny and Benny's rocking _back_, oh god, Ray's getting ground up against the fridge and he is probably _shredding_ the purple dinosaur artwork with his ass and he doesn't CARE, he'll fucking buy whatever niece it is a CAR or something. Because it is insane for just kissing and rubbing to feel this good, he's a grown man and this is _high school_ shit, it is exactly like being fourteen and kissing his first girl because it feels so so so good and because he has no. fucking. clue what to do _next_, and even because his _mother_ could come downstairs any second or oh Jesus _Frannie_.

He shoves Benny off him. And Benny gasps and sort of _staggers_, he is actually...uncoordinated for a second. Which, to be honest, Ray loves.

But then he gets this awful look, this "I fucked up" look which Ray has seen on him _enough_ lately, doesn't need to see again ever. So Ray steps up to him, just puts his arms around him and does _not_ grind into him like he wants to, wants to so much, just murmurs into his neck. "Not here. Not now. I don't know, I don't have any idea what we're doing, but it's okay, whatever the hell it _is_ it's okay, this is a _yes_. Just. Not here. Not now."

Benny's quiet for a second, then nods into Ray's shoulder. Pulls away, opens his mouth, closes it again.

Uncoordinated _and_ too horny and confused to talk. Ray loves this a _lot_.

He grabs Fraser by the elbow, steers him gently to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and Benny manages a nod and he's down the stairs and on the sidewalk, and Jesus did he _walk_ all the way out here? Probably.

Ray shakes his head, walks back into the kitchen and wipes up the puddle from where his water bottle dropped, sometime he doesn't remember because he was _necking with Fraser_. And this is huge, this is a _life change_, and he ought to be thinking and working it through but he's just so tired and so _hard_, all he can manage to do is go to bed and have the shortest most efficient jerk-off session in the history of Ray Vecchio and go to sleep.

He has nice dreams.

 

\--END--


End file.
